


All Yours

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Manipulative Mycroft, Possessive Greg, Unsafe Sex, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade starts a new relationship with Mycroft Holmes...who also seems to be dating some other men.  This won't do at all.  Greg needs to make sure that everyone knows that Mycroft is HIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first prompt I've ever filled for anyone. The prompt was from matomato and was: "so i've been thinking about how it was usually always mycroft trying to ruin greg's blind date and stake his claim that greg is his, now i want it reserve like how, greg is the one that making sure everyone knows that mycroft is his and mycroft find this very amusing and stuff, but at the same time both of them are still not in a committed relationship. i wonder if you can do something like that :)"
> 
> I hope everyone likes it!
> 
> (Also, I wrote the summary and then realized that I basically quoted the prompt for the last sentence...oops.)
> 
> If you have a prompt, please let me know! You can comment on any of my fics or ask me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maebellesarah)!

Greg felt like a bumbling idiot. No, he was a bumbling idiot. He was a complete moron. He had finally managed to schedule a date with Mycroft Holmes and he was completely fucking it up. Mycroft was sitting across the table from him, smiling in that knowing, smug way that made Greg’s trousers feel too tight.

From the first moment Greg saw Mycroft, he wanted him. He needed him. He lay awake nights thinking about him. He fantasized about all the dirty things he would do to him.

Greg would rip that suit off of Mycroft, he fantasized while wanking in bed, the shower, his car during his lunch break. He would plant kisses and bites all over that creamy white skin, marking his territory. He would worship his body for hours, covering every inch of it with love and attention.

It was now clear that Greg had been wrong, that such things would never happen. He wasn’t being interesting. He wasn’t being witty. He wasn’t being sexy.

He was an idiot.

Greg hoped that Mycroft couldn’t see how profusely he was sweating, but of course Mycroft saw. He seemed to chuckle to himself and then he leaned forward.

“You needn’t be so nervous, Gregory,” Mycroft said in a low, sexy voice. “What you want is going to happen tonight.”

“What?” Greg asked, afraid to hope that Mycroft meant what Greg thought he meant.

“I fully intend to use you for my pleasure after this dinner. So eat up. You’ll need your strength.” He leaned back and watched as Greg opened his mouth and then closed it again. And then opened it. And then closed it again. 

Greg took a deep breath and came back to himself. “What if I told you that I’m not hungry?”

Mycroft smiled.

As soon as they were in the back seat of Mycroft’s car, Greg was on Mycroft. He straddled the taller man, kissing him with a passion Greg hadn’t known he possessed. He tugged on Mycroft’s bottom lip with his teeth, plunging his tongue deep in Mycroft’s mouth as soon as he opened it. He wanted to taste all of Mycroft, to fill his senses with everything Mycroft had to offer. Mycroft responded enthusiastically, running his hands up and down Greg’s back, eventually settling with them cupping his arse.

When the car stopped, Mycroft pushed Greg off of his lap. “Get out,” he growled. “In your flat. Now.”

Greg scrambled out of the car and unlocked the door to his flat. By the time he got it open, Mycroft was crowding him, pushing him inside and slamming the door shut. Greg turned and pushed Mycroft up against the wall, attacking what was visible of his neck with bites and licks. Mycroft moaned, which only spurred Greg on, tearing at Mycroft’s tie and shirt buttons to expose more skin to abuse.

Mycroft wrenched himself free from Greg’s iron grip and pushed him backwards. “Bedroom, now,” he ordered in a low voice.

Greg grinned and turned to lead the way to the bedroom, tearing his clothes off as he went. He heard Mycroft close behind him, doing the same. By the time he was spun and thrown down on the bed, they were both naked. “I want you to fuck me,” Mycroft moaned as he climbed on top of Greg.

“No,” Greg said, flipping Mycroft onto his back and straddling him, looking down at him with a smile.

“No?” Mycroft asked with a small smile.

“Next time. This time I want to explore you. And then I want you to suck me off.” He caressed Mycroft’s cheek before pressing his thumb into Mycroft’s open mouth.

Mycroft sucked Greg’s thumb, half-closed, lustful eyes locking onto Greg’s similarly hazy eyes. Greg pulled his hand away and began his work, running his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth over every part of Mycroft he could reach. He finished by alternating kisses and bites down Mycroft’s stomach and sliding Mycroft’s erect cock into his mouth, bobbing his head vigorously, letting his teeth lightly scrape the shaft every third or fourth bob. Soon he had reduced Mycroft to grunting unintelligible syllables before going silent and exploding into Greg’s mouth.

As Greg sucked every bit of the thick liquid out of Mycroft’s cock as he could, a thought that perhaps he should have used protection crossed his mind, but he pushed it away as too late now. He could trust Mycroft, couldn’t he? The man was the bloody British Government, after all.

When Mycroft had finished, Greg lay his face on Mycroft’s thigh, savoring the taste on his tongue and lips. “Get up here,” Mycroft said, tugging on his arm.

Greg crawled up and collapsed next to Mycroft, who looked like he was half asleep. “Your turn,” Mycroft said, kissing Greg.

“It’s okay if you’re tired,” Greg said with a smile.

“Not too tired. I’ve been looking forward to this,” Mycroft told him. “Just relax and enjoy.”

Greg smiled as Mycroft worked his way down Greg’s front, finally settling on Greg’s cock and going to work with his mouth. Greg let all conscious thoughts go as he was consumed by pleasure, enjoying Mycroft’s talented mouth. 

When Mycroft was done, he collapsed next to Greg, his head resting on Greg’s chest, Greg’s arm wrapped around him. “That was nice,” Mycroft whispered. “We have to do this again.”

“You’re amazing,” Greg said sleepily. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

***

This was not right. Greg was standing outside a coffee shop, looking at Mycroft sitting inside with some man, clearly a date. He watched as Mycroft gave one of those little smiles, the ones that drove Greg crazy and Greg shifted uncomfortably. It was clearly having a similar effect on the man sitting across the small table from Mycroft. 

Mycroft reached over and traced a pattern on the back of the man’s hand and Greg’s brain short-circuited. No. Absolutely not. That was not on. Greg would not stand for it. He was about to stride in there and cause a fuss when he realized that he and Mycroft had never discussed being exclusive. They had gone on one date, had spent the night together, and had planned another date, but they hadn’t discussed whether they were boyfriends or if they could date other people. Clearly, Mycroft had taken that to mean that he could date other people.

Greg did not like it.

He couldn’t fault Mycroft and he couldn’t really be upset. After all, Greg supposed he was the one who had been unclear. He would fix that. He could send clear signals. That’s what Mycroft needed, a clear sign that Greg wanted to be exclusive. A sign that Mycroft was Greg’s now.

Greg wondered how many people Mycroft was sleeping with. What if Mycroft didn’t want to just be with Greg? Greg shook his head to clear it of thoughts. Mycroft clearly wanted Greg. Greg would just have to prove to him that he was the best possible man for Mycroft. That shouldn’t be hard, the two of them were great together.

Greg squared his shoulders and walked through the door to the coffee shop. He walked up to Mycroft, smiling a friendly smile. Mycroft looked up at him with a satisfied smile. The bastard probably loved this, Greg thought, glancing at the other man at the table, who wasn’t smiling.

“Good evening, Gregory” Mycroft said in his silky-smooth voice.

“Hello,” Greg said, resting a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. He turned to face the strange man, who was scowling. “I’m Greg. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.”

“I’m Doctor David Butler,” the man replied, doing his best to sound bored. “Are you and Mycroft friends?”

“Oh, we’re a bit more than that,” Greg said in his most self-satisfied voice, adding a bit of a chuckle at the end.

“Indeed,” Mycroft agreed, putting his hand on top of Greg’s.

“How lovely. Now, if you would be so kind, I believe Mycroft and I were on a date.”

“Oh, I thought perhaps I might join you,” Greg said innocently.

“Of course. That sounds lovely,” Mycroft said. “I’ll go get you a coffee, you sit.” He stood and offered Greg his chair before going up to the counter for another coffee.

“Get out of here,” David said, glowering at Greg.

“You get out,” Greg said. He leaned forward and used his lowest, most dangerous voice. “Mycroft is mine, now leave us.”

“I’m on a date. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me to leave a public place. You should know that, you’re a policeman,” he spat the last word, like it was beneath him to even say the word.

Greg leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Yeah, the date is going really well. Your date jumped at the chance for someone he’s sleeping with to join you.”

“He’s sleeping with you?” the man asked, looking surprised.

Greg nodded. “Two days ago. And we have a date tomorrow. Like I said, he’s mine.”

The man stood. “Too much drama for me. You can have him, mate.”

Greg smiled as the man left without another word, even to Mycroft. He knew that Mycroft was worth the effort. And there wouldn’t be drama now that Greg had chased off that man.

Mycroft returned to the table with Greg’s coffee and handed it to him, pulling David’s empty chair over so it was next to Greg and sitting down.

“Aren’t you curious where he went?” Greg asked, nodding at the other side of the table.

“I’m more curious what color pants you’re wearing,” Mycroft said, leaning in. “We aren’t that far from your flat.”

Greg grinned, abandoned the coffee, grabbed Mycroft’s hand, and practically dragged him out of there.

Later, as they lay on Greg’s bed, sated and sleepy, Mycroft traced patterns on Greg’s stomach. “I like you, Gregory,” he said.

Greg hummed a happy noise in his throat. “I like you, too. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“I’m glad you scared my date off.”

Greg saw the opening he had been given: this would be the perfect time to tell Mycroft that he wanted to be exclusive. He thought for a moment about what he might say and then decided against it: it had to be pretty clear that he wanted to be exclusive, after what happened at the coffee shop. If Mycroft didn’t get it, then Greg didn’t want to be involved with him.

Maybe.

“Are we still going out for dinner tomorrow?” Greg asked, instead of what he was thinking.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you out of bed. And then more time with you in bed.”

Greg chuckled and rolled onto his side, wrapping his arm around Mycroft. “Sleep now? You wore me out.”

“Good idea. Goodnight, Gregory.” Mycroft planted a kiss on Greg’s forehead and then pulled the blanket up and around them, settling down to sleep.

***

The next day, Greg was at a crime scene. He looked up to see that Mycroft had appeared out of nowhere and was talking to John and Sherlock. He wondered why Mycroft hadn’t told him that he was going to be there. Sherlock probably had some business with him and since Sherlock was at the crime scene, Mycroft was.

Mycroft looked at Greg, saw that he was looking at them, and gave him a wicked smile. He turned his gaze back to John and Sherlock and said something. Sherlock turned and walked away, but John stayed there. Mycroft said something else and John blushed.

Mycroft reached out and touched John’s arm. That could have been friendly, Greg told himself, trying not to allow himself to become angry.

Mycroft leaned forward and whispered something in John’s ear. John gave chuckled and looked away in a manner that was decidedly not just friendly. Greg gestured to Sally that he would be right back and headed over to them to find out what was happening.

“Oy!” he said, much more annoyed than he wanted to be. “What are you two doing?”

“We’re just having a conversation, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said, glancing at some of Greg’s subordinates, who were nearby.

At that moment, Greg couldn’t have cared less about his subordinates. “Do you have a reason to be at my crime scene, Mycroft?” he asked, pointedly ignoring John.

“We were just…” John trailed off when Greg fixed him with a look.

“Shouldn’t you be helping Sherlock?” Greg said, not really intending it as a question.

John didn’t say another word, just turned and walked away. He was probably annoyed, but Greg could deal with that later. For now, he had business with Mycroft. “Did you need something?”

“I had some business with my brother. As he was here, with you, I thought it would be pleasant to see you as well,” Mycroft explained. Greg expected him to be annoyed by Greg’s behavior, but he instead seemed pleased by it. Greg was slightly put out by that, but then decided if Mycroft was pleased by Greg being rude to his friend, with whom Mycroft had clearly been flirting, Greg would give him a better reason to be pleased.

Greg reached up and roughly pulled Mycroft into a kiss. Mycroft moved easily where Greg directed him, dipping his head compliantly and readily opening his mouth to accept Greg’s tongue. Greg wrapped both arms around Mycroft’s neck and clung to him, eventually pulling apart far enough to lock eyes.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Greg asked.

Mycroft smiled a genuine smile that made Greg’s heartbeat pick up its pace. “I can’t wait.”

Greg let go of him and he waved at John and Sherlock, who were staring with wide eyes, along with everyone else at the crime scene, before getting back into his car.

Greg turned back to the crime scene, ignoring his team’s stares. Everyone knew that Mycroft was his now, that was his goal and he had accomplished it. If anyone had a problem with that, they knew to talk to him about it.

***

Greg walked into the restaurant where he was to meet Mycroft. He was a few minutes late, but he had texted Mycroft and received a response that Mycroft would just wait at the bar. He made his way through the crowded restaurant to the bar, where there were several men grouped together. When Greg got up to the bar, he realized that the men were standing around Mycroft.

Greg immediately wanted to drag Mycroft back to his flat and fuck him senseless. Mycroft was wearing his usual perfectly tailored suit and was exuding an aura of power and sensuality that Greg was sure could turn any man on, gay or straight. The men standing around him were stepping all over each other’s attempts at conversation.

Again, Greg was annoyed. He thought he was being very clear with his signals. There was no way that Mycroft could not know that Greg wanted only him. Did Mycroft not want the right thing? Greg chewed his bottom lip, watching the scene before him, before deciding that he couldn’t leave Mycroft there any longer.

He stepped up, jostling his way past some of the men and stood in front of Mycroft as if they weren’t surrounded by people who wanted to sleep with him.

“Good evening,” Greg said calmly, smiling at him. “I’m sorry for late. Are you ready for dinner?”

Mycroft smiled and leaned forward for a kiss. Greg happily accepted the kiss, holding Mycroft’s face gently in his hands. “I am,” he said quietly as they pulled apart.

At dinner, Greg drank a bit too much wine. He kept thinking about Mycroft with all of those men around him, thinking about shagging him, and he kept downing his wine to make his mental images go away. By the time they had finished dessert and walked

outside to catch a cab, Greg was swaying and Mycroft was holding him up.

“Are you coming back to mine?” Greg slurred, leaning his head on Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Yes, Gregory.”

“Oh, good. I want you.”

“Sh. Not tonight, Gregory. You need sleep.”

“But you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Gregory. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. I like being with you.”

***

Gregory was embarrassed about his behavior after dinner, but he didn’t do anything bad, he was just too drunk to be of much use. He disliked getting drunk, so he apologized profusely. Mycroft just smiled and said that it was fine, that he didn’t mind and that Greg needed to let loose sometimes. Then he cooked Greg a nice greasy breakfast and Greg was sure he was falling in love.

The next night was a benefit that Mycroft needed to attend. He invited Greg to be his date Greg gladly accepted, even though he was unused to such formal events. Mycroft gave him some advice on what he should wear and Greg bought a new, much nicer, suit for the occasion. He was caught up at a crime scene again, so he had to rush home and get ready as quickly as possible. He texted Mycroft that he would meet him there, so Mycroft wasn’t late, and Mycroft told him that he would ensure Greg was on the list and would be let into the party.

When Greg arrived, he was allowed in and pointed toward the bar when he asked if they had an idea where Mycroft might be. Greg was walking up to the bar, when he noticed Mycroft talking to a man, a friendly look on his face. Greg thought it must be a coworker and was making his way over when the strange man leaned forward and kissed Mycroft.

Greg was only about ten feet away, so saw Mycroft step back and heard him say, “I’m sorry, you seem to have the wrong—” he was cut off as Greg reached them and grabbed the other man’s shoulder.

Greg spun the man, faintly recognizing him as a politician who had recently been in the news. Without hesitation, Greg pulled his arm back and punched the man in the nose.

“Gregory!” Mycroft cried.

Greg dropped the man, who was shouting and clutching his face. He looked at Mycroft, expecting to hear a lecture about proper behavior at functions, but instead, Mycroft was looking at him with a strange expression.

It was almost like he was aroused.

Oh.

_Ohhh._ That's an interesting reaction.

He was sure he could work with this. If Mycroft liked this side of him, the possessive side, he could let it show. The man Greg had punched struggled to his feet, still shouting at Greg. “Go away,” Greg said dismissively to the man. “Get find your own boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Mycroft asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Yes, boyfriend,” Greg said, taking Mycroft’s hand in his. “You are my boyfriend. Mine.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes. You are mine and no one else’s. Any problems with that?”

“None at all. I am rather pleased to be yours.”

“You don’t seem to be pleased, with all the flirting you do,” Greg pointed out.

“You have made no declarations of ownership before now.”

Greg let go of Mycroft’s hand and crossed his arms. “I feel that I have been very clear about my feelings.”

“You like me. You want to have sex with me. Nowhere in any of our conversations have you said that you wanted to be in an exclusive relationship with me.”

Greg frowned. He took a moment to think back on their conversations. Mycroft was right: he had never come right out and said that he wanted to be exclusive. “I thought I was sending pretty clear signals.”

“You may have been sending signals, but you didn’t say anything. Every time you saw me flirt with someone, you could have told me what you wanted.” 

Something in Mycroft’s tone bothered Greg. It was almost as if Mycroft was trying to prove a point. “Hold on… Did you do this on purpose?”

“Not this situation.” Mycroft gestured at where the man Greg had punched was sitting nearby, being looked at by another guest at the party. “I may have created some situations to make you realize what you clearly wanted.”

“'Created situations’?”

“I didn’t have any interest in that man at the coffee shop. He was dreadfully dull. I knew you liked to go there on your way home.” Mycroft had a smile on his face and Greg was annoyed at how much it turned him on.

“Any others?”

“I would never flirt with John Watson. I asked him for his assistance with that. Sherlock wasn’t pleased at the situation, as I’m sure you could plainly see.”

“So I owe him a drink, is what you’re saying?”

Mycroft nodded. “Oh, and I simply opened myself up to conversation with those men at the restaurant. I didn’t offer them anything or ask for anything. They simply appeared as I sat there.”

“You know how you attracted them. You assume that power stance and everyone in the room wants you. How many people have you been sleeping with?”

“How many…” Mycroft looked at a loss for words. “There’s no one but you, Gregory. I’m strictly a one-at-a-time man. Did you think I was sleeping with other people?”

“Well, some people do that. It didn’t seem out of the realm of possibilities.”

“I am surprised that you think I would do that to you.”

“You had men flirt with you to get me to make some kind of commitment, but I didn’t know that was why. You were just playing with my. I couldn’t have known that you weren’t sleeping with anyone else.” Greg was trying to be annoyed, but he wasn’t able to make himself upset with Mycroft. “You shouldn’t play with my emotions like that.”

“Play with your emotions? You’re the one who didn’t tell me what you wanted and then was angry because I acted according to our relationship as I understood it.”

“You were hardly open with what you wanted. Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to be exclusive? I assume this whole stunt is because that’s what you want? Of course, you would never lower yourself to the level of chasing me, it’s my place to chase you.”

Mycroft leaned forward and kissed Greg. “I would chase you around the entire world, Gregory. Lack of openness is a flaw of mine. I find manipulation easier to manage. I apologize for not talking to you.”

“I suppose I forgive you. Though if you don’t let me shag you senseless tonight, I might have to give you up for a lost cause.”

“Only if you promise to talk to me when you want something.” Mycroft looked more earnest than Greg had ever seen him, all mind games and manipulation pushed to the side. “I will promise the same.”

“Of course,” Greg said with a smile.

“Splendid. Now, let’s enjoy this party.”

Greg looked around the sea of men in suits and women in ridiculous dresses. “Yes. I did buy a new suit for this thing.”

“It looks very nice on you, too,” Mycroft told him.

“You know the effect your suits have on me.”

“My flat is nearby, we have the option of going there instead of staying here.” Mycroft looked out over the party, not making eye contact with Greg.

“I thought you needed to be here.”

“I put in an appearance. A rather exciting appearance, thanks to you.”

“Lead the way to your place, then.” Greg was already mapping out the most efficient way to get Mycroft naked as Mycroft took him by the hand and led him toward the exit, rudely pushing his way through the crowd.

They arrived at Mycroft’s flat, a marvel of modern decor, featuring a phenomenal view, but Greg had no time to enjoy the view, as he was immediately directed to the bedroom and pushed onto the bed.

“I have been looking forward to this,” Mycroft said, beginning to undress.

“Wait. Stop,” Greg directed, sitting up and leaning against the wall. He crossed his outstretched legs at the ankle, sitting in an extremely comfortable and casual position. “Strip for me. Slowly.”

“Is that what you want?” Mycroft asked, sounding as if he weren’t inclined to comply. 

“Now.” Greg’s voice was low and gravelly and he saw Mycroft bite his lip.

Mycroft moved slowly, sensually, in a way that Greg had fantasized about for months. He removed his suit piece by piece, swaying and undulating to music that must have been playing in his head, because there was none playing. During the performance,

Greg took off his own jacket, vest, and shirt, never taking his eyes off of Mycroft. He unbuttoned his trousers and stroked himself slowly as he watched Mycroft bending and twisting as he undressed,

Finally, Mycroft was naked and climbed onto the bed, tugging on the bottom of Greg’s trousers. Greg lifted himself so Mycroft could pull them off. Mycroft stared. “Were you not wearing any pants under there?” he asked.

“I thought it might make you guessing the color of my pants more exciting.” 

“It certainly would have. Did you get distracted and forget to ask me to guess?” Mycroft quirked one eyebrow up, smiling.

“Get over here.” Greg grabbed Mycroft’s wrist and pulled him down. He pushed Mycroft onto his back and climbed on top of him, kissing him. “You’re mine,” he said, running his hands up and down Mycroft’s sides.

“I’m yours.”

“No one else can have you.”

Mycroft shook his head, moaning as Greg pinched one of his nipples. “No one but you.”

Greg poured some lube into his palm, letting his hand wander down to Mycroft’s hole, slowly beginning to prepare Mycroft. As he stretched him, Greg kissed his way down Mycroft’s torso and ended up licking and kissing his shaft, teasing Mycroft with his mouth.

By the time Greg had sufficiently stretched Mycroft, he was panting with need, his cock leaking. “Please, Greg.”

“Please what?” Greg asked innocently. Mycroft panted at him and he chuckled. He motioned for Mycroft to roll over and pushed inside of him slowly, so slowly that Mycroft groaned and pushed back against him.

“You okay?” Greg stroked Mycroft’s sides gently, not wanting to hurt him. Mycroft nodded and Greg started moving slowly, whispering endearments between moans. As Mycroft started letting go, muttering an incessant stream of profanity, Greg thrust harder, working his way up to the fastest pace he could manage, slamming into Mycroft and making him cry out in pleasure and pain.

It didn’t take long for Greg to feel like he was ready to explode. He had been waiting to have Mycroft like this for so long that he didn’t think he could last any longer when Mycroft let out one final shout, tightening around Greg as he orgasmed. Greg let himself go as he felt Mycroft’s release, gasping at the intensity of his own orgasm.

When they had finished, he lay down and wrapped his arm around Mycroft’s chest. “That was perfect,” he whispered.

“It was.” Mycroft rolled over and faced Greg, smiling at him. “I’m yours,” he said quietly.

“Good.”

“All yours, I belong to no one else.”


End file.
